Statuesque
by WolfsLegend
Summary: Thirty-two years and already he had seen much more than the sages themselves. His sapphire eyes were never as bright as they had been during his 'innocent stage.' Innocence… he had left that long ago. Yet it was to be expected for he was a hero; nevertheless, he denied such formalities and appealing praise. He was no hero. No, he was just the remnants.


_**I was reading a Zelda drabble, "Cut from Marble," and had an idea.**_

 _ **Please do leave a review or PM. Tell me what you liked, what you hated, and what you thought. Reviews are always welcome. It helps me as a writer (I'm trying to improve).**_

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 **Statuesque**

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Years of fighting, years of bloodshed, years of turmoil, and years of loss had made his flesh thick and scarred. Within a measly thirty-two years he had seen the death of family, friends, and enemies alike. His muscles were firm, corded, and well developed and his blade had aged, been scuffed, and stained. His face was sharper than ever, his lips thin with the constant heat of combat.

Thirty-two years and already he had seen much more than the sages themselves. His sapphire eyes were never as bright as they had been during his "innocent stage." Innocence… he had left that long ago. Yet it was to be expected for he was a _hero_ ; nevertheless, he denied such formalities and appealing praise.

 _He was no hero, just a statue—a shell of hero._

Every time he removed the blade from its scabbard, every time he added to his victims, and every time he looked into the eyes of the innocent children that dreamed to be him he grew cold. He grew distant. Even now, the queen of Hyrule barely spoke a word to him as she had done not twenty-five years ago.

Every night he would toss and turn, every night he would go over each opponent that had passed on by his blade's aid, and every night he would fear for the nightmares to wreak havoc. It had come to the point where sleep was a rarity as were the good dreams that he had long since missed.

To the people he was an idol, a savior, and to some… even a god. The youthful side of him would revel in their praise and worship, but his darkened heart and mind would reply in disgust. He was forced into the boots of a hero, he was forced to slay the foul beasts and those with ill minds, and he was forced to save a kingdom that knew nothing of him. He had no other choice… and he had been so scared. Even now, his fingers would hesitate at the hilt, his eyes would waver upon contact of the enemy, and his heart would doubt.

A hero stood tall, but instead he would withdraw mentally and cower in his metaphorical corner. He was no hero. A hero did things without question and yet he questioned everything.

Why him? Why him, a child who had just craved for a life of normalcy? Why him, a man who was nothing but a title? He was _broken_.

Yet he still accompanied the Hyrulean soldiers on their assignments, he still battled oncoming opponents that threatened Hyrule and her people, and he still acted as a hero because after thirty-two years he discovered that… there was nothing left. He had been beaten into reciting the life of his lineage, he had been branded by the Goddesses, and that life that he had once taken for granted was far from reach and buried under graves upon graves. Even now he put on the façade of a man who would gladly kill over and over again if it meant saving his people, but in reality he trembled at the thought of removing that aging blade from its jeweled scabbard.

 _He didn't like the sight of blood, didn't like the rush of adrenaline, and didn't like the sound of sword on flesh, on bone, and muscles and tendons._ Yet he did it anyways because there was nothing left. There was nothing to return to so it felt only right for him to remain as he was, to protect as he did.

"Link."

Azure eyes looked up from marble floors, the gaze distant and uninterested. Mundane. He was broken. Nothing remained in that hollow heart of his except a cowering child who desired so many unreachable, intangible things. Nothing but fear and doubt yet when he met the eyes of royalty he squelched those fears with a proper bow, tanned arms swaying with a familiar, polite gesture.

"I will go to the Lost Woods as you have asked, your majesty, and I will defeat the being that threatens our livelihood." The words were monotone, they resounded like the man was reciting them for a play and in a sense he was. He turned from her, the Hyrulean armor clinking, and left the queen of Hyrule in the halls of her castle.

She looked on, wondering just when it was that Link had changed. The distance had been expected, but surely not for this long? Either way she refrained from questioning his choice in attitude. She refrained from checking in on his sanity and questioning the absence of his smile, of his laughter, and of his humor. Nevertheless, before the hero departed the long, spacious, and incredibly unfurnished halls, she said, "Good luck, hero."

But he was no hero, just the remnants of a hero. _Just a statue._

 _He didn't like the sight of blood, didn't like the rush of adrenaline, and didn't like the sound of sword on flesh, on bone, and muscles and tendons._ Yet he did it anyways because there was nothing left. There was nothing to return to so it felt only right for him to remain as he was, to protect as he did, to mimic and act as he had practiced.


End file.
